


So, How Was My Funeral?

by Ibelin



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Episode: s04e15 Deception, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Light Angst, Master Yoda Is Not Happy, Obi Wan Continues To Fail At Feelings, anakin and obi wan are embarrassing everyone around them, obi-wan and the council are not COMPLETELy stupid, only mildly stupid, show some DIGNITY guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 04:25:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15016613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ibelin/pseuds/Ibelin
Summary: “Obi-Wan, I need you to know two things. First, I love you so much.” Anakin looked his master in the eye, demanding full acknowledgment. “And second, I am going to kill you.”(Deception Arc AU where everything is the same except Obi-Wan does the only sane thing and fills Anakin in on the plan before things get completely out of control.)





	So, How Was My Funeral?

When Master Yoda told Anakin to follow him, Anakin did.

He said nothing.

He felt Ahsoka’s eyes on him as he left, and Padme’s too although she was more subtle about it. He knew they were worried, and would continue to be worried until he did something to show that he was going to be okay. Dimly, he felt that they would have to worry for a long, long time.

 _This is wrong_ , he thought.

Master Windu had joined Master Yoda. Together they were leading him — somewhere. He didn’t care. He had watched Obi-Wan’s body be destroyed in flame. He had held Obi-Wan and searched for a pulse, a breath, any spark of life in the Force and found nothing. They wanted him to believe that Obi-Wan had just vanished. That he was gone forever, just like that, for no reason. That he would never see Obi-Wan, never feel his warm glow in the Force, never bicker with him about nonsense just for the fun of it — ever again.

They wanted him to be okay.

 _This is wrong_.

Obi-Wan was dead. Everyone’s attention was on him, waiting to see what he would do. Even now, Master Windu and Master Yoda were acutely conscious of his presence following them through the Temple.

Anakin knew all this, but he felt nothing. Where was the fury, the grief, the agony that had consumed him when his mother died? Had he loved Obi-Wan less? He didn’t think so. And yet, all he felt was a cold emptiness, and a thread of panic that made it hard to breathe. It was like one of his dreams — the ones where he knew he was dreaming and urgently needed to wake up, but somehow couldn’t find the way out.

 _Obi-Wan_ , he thought. _Where are you?_

Their bond was truncated and lifeless. Was this what death felt like? He thought it should be more, somehow. Like an open wound. Not this strange absence, like an invisible wall, or like nothing had ever been there.

_This is wrong._

How many times had Obi-Wan been stabbed, shot, tortured, beaten, and blown up? Anakin couldn’t even begin to count — and he had always survived. Now, some stupid sniper got in a lucky shot with a blaster, and he was gone in a single instant? Obi-Wan had always said that there was no such thing as luck.

“Skywalker.”

The two masters had stopped. Anakin stopped too, just in time to avoid running over Master Yoda. Master Windu was looking at him with concern. Had they said his name more than once? This place looked medical, but it wasn’t any part of the Halls of Healing that Anakin was familiar with. He thought Master Windu might have had to palm his way past a security door to get here, but he hadn’t really been paying attention.

Anakin was trying to jump-start his non-functional brain and think about what they were doing here, when the door in front of them hissed open. He froze.

“So, how was my funeral?” asked Obi-Wan, who was sitting there on a table, perfect and whole and alive. He looked at Anakin, and then immediately looked away to smile at Master Yoda.

Stumping his way into the room, Master Yoda made a disapproving noise. “A better performance than _you_ , your corpse gave.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes kept returning to Anakin and then glancing away, as if he didn’t _want_ to look at Anakin, but couldn’t help it. Anakin felt no such reservation; he stared at Obi-Wan and kept staring. His face, his voice his expression... those tunics he had been wearing when he was shot, still with a charred blaster burn right over his heart... even his fingers where they curled around the edge of the table he was sitting on — it was _him_.

So why, when Anakin reached for him in the Force, was he still finding nothing, nothing, nothing—?

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said with bravado that did not quite ring true. “Anakin looks quite surprised.”

All three of them looked at him now, with various shades of wary concern. Anakin still hadn’t moved.

“Um.” He cleared his throat, dream-panic threatening to choke off his words. “Where’s—?” A vague gesture near his ear was all Anakin could manage.

Obi-Wan understood. Eyes widening slightly, he blinked and then blazed into existence in the Force. Their suffocated bond ignited like a live wire, and the sense of Obi-Wan filled the whole room. Anakin swayed on his feet.

In two steps, he had covered the distance between them and caught his master in the tightest embrace he could manage — half hug, half desperate cling. Obi-Wan made an involuntary noise, surprise or discomfort or both, and was half a beat late at returning the hug. Anakin, face pressed into Obi-Wan’s neck, didn’t care. He could feel the warmth of Obi-Wan’s skin, the beat of his heart, as real as anything, as real as the Force flowing between them.

This was not a dream.

Almost shyly, Obi-Wan wrapped an arm around Anakin’s back. “Hello,” he murmured, bringing his other hand up to tangle in Anakin’s hair.

With the abruptness of still-lingering fear, Anakin moved to press his forehead against Obi-Wan’s temple and leaned hard on the bond, digging at the place in his mind where he could feel Obi-Wan’s banked warmth. He needed it open, needed to _know_. He was prepared to insist with mild violence, but all he had to do was ask. Obi-Wan let him in like it was easy.

They typically spent every day sitting in the back of each other’s heads to some extent. A Jedi was rarely ever alone. But there were shields, and natural barriers, and a certain distance that was polite. Anakin had never wholly submerged himself in Obi-Wan the way he was doing now, not even in joint meditation. For a moment, he _was_ Obi-Wan — worried and guilty and full of affection for the human-shaped whirlwind he held in his arms, and always at the core of him burning with a steady, golden fire.

“Obi-Wan,” gasped Anakin.

“I’m here.”

“Yeah. Kriff.” He pulled back slightly, squeezing his eyes shut. He pressed hard against one with the heel of his real hand, but couldn’t stop the two single tears that leaked out.

Obi-Wan was alive. Which meant that Obi-Wan had faked his death.

Anakin took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Deliberately, he gripped the collar of Obi-Wan’s tunic with both hands.

“Anakin—”

“Shut up.”

Obi-Wan did, relaxing in a way that suggested he was merely waiting for the inevitable. Equanimity in this situation offended Anakin, made him want to shake Obi-Wan, so he did — very gently.

“Obi-Wan, I need you to know two things. First, I love you _so_ much.” Anakin looked his master in the eye, demanding full acknowledgment. “And second, I am going to kill you.”

Obi-Wan’s answering smile was a flash that filled his whole face and was gone. “As has always been your right,” he said very seriously, and smudged away the drying tear-tracks on Anakin’s cheeks with his thumb. “Now, can I explain what’s going on?”

Anakin released him and crossed his arms. “I don’t even know if I want to know. How about I just go back up to your _funeral_ where everyone is _mourning your death_ and leave you to whatever trickery you’re playing at.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not an option,” said Master Windu, sounding as if he thought it was very unfortunate indeed.

Anakin took a half step back from Obi-Wan, but it was way too late to remember there were other people in the room. He had already cried in front of them, told Obi-Wan he _loved_ him in front of them. They’d watched him practically try to drown himself in Obi-Wan’s Force signature. Had they seen worse? Maybe, but Anakin couldn’t exactly recall any specific examples just now.

The wry look Obi-Wan was giving him might have made him scowl in other circumstances, but now he just lifted his eyebrows. The bond was still indecently open; no doubt Obi-Wan could tell exactly what he was thinking. So what if Master Yoda and Master Windu had seen him behaving embarrassingly unlike a Jedi? Obi-Wan saw that every day and still loved him — Anakin had felt it, just now.

Obi-Wan was _alive_ , when just hours ago he had been dead. Anakin didn’t yet have the space to care that much about Master Windu’s glares.

“Since it was unavoidable that you be told the truth, you are now a part of this mission, Skywalker. We have a task for you.”

“Well if it’s so _unfortunate_ , why _did_ you read me in?” snarked Anakin. It was habit and, okay, maybe he did care a little bit about Master Windu’s glares.

Dry as a bone, Master Windu said, “We couldn’t anticipate your behavior if you truly thought Obi-Wan was dead.”

He made it sound like being unpredictable was the worst possible fault for a Jedi. Anakin snorted, and then abruptly realized that he had asked the wrong question. “Then why didn’t you just tell me in the first place?” He turned on Obi-Wan. “You made me carry your body home for no reason.”

He might have believed Obi-Wan’s unaffected straight face if the bond hadn’t been dumping all his master’s thoughts and feelings into Anakin’s head. The question shoved the knife of Obi-Wan’s own guilt deeper into his gut and twisted. Good.

“No one would have believed I was dead if _you_ didn’t, Anakin. Everyone knows how close we are.” Because an open bond went both ways and Obi-Wan was too kriffing perceptive, he added, “Since it happened, haven’t you felt everyone closely watching you?”

“Maybe,” said Anakin, glaring. It was hard to be too mad when Obi-Wan had just said the words _everyone knows how close we are_. Maybe he had said it on purpose just to placate and distract Anakin. “I could have played the part. I’ve done it before.”

“Could you?”

Anakin honestly wasn’t sure he could have. Act like he thought Obi-Wan was dead? He probably would have been able to fool most of the Order — but Ahsoka? Padme? Even though he knew Obi-Wan could sense his uncertainty, there was no way he was going to admit it out loud. “It would have been better to do this _together_.”

“We are,” insisted Obi-Wan. “We will.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “Obi-Wan. I’m waiting for you tell me you’re sorry.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan’s eyes widened in relief. “Anakin, I’m very sorry to have caused you pain. I would have avoided it, if I could.”

It was a very Obi-Wan apology: earnest and compassionate, but not actually admitting that he had done anything wrong.

“I’ll probably forgive you. Eventually. I’m still going to kill you, though.”

Obi-Wan gave him a lopsided smile, much more comfortable with banter and death threats than with Anakin’s actual feelings. Slowly, Anakin felt him starting to siphon back his presence from the bond. They couldn’t stay this entwined forever, but Anakin gave a sharp tug on his end just to show Obi-Wan he’d noticed.

“A good team, the two of you are,” said Master Yoda.

Anakin lifted his chin. Good? They were the best.

“But _dangerous_ have you allowed your attachment to become. No longer two, you are, but two halves of one. Impossible it is now, to have one and not the other.”

“We can work solo. We do it all the time,” Anakin argued, even though he knew this song and dance too well to think there was any real point.

Yoda rapped his walking stick on the ground, sharp disapproval as clear as a slap. “Speak of work, Skywalker, I do not, but of _function_. Carry out a solo assignment, could you, knowing that Obi-Wan was hurt, hm? In danger? Dead? And you, young Obi-Wan. Fool yourself, do you, that less damaged by Skywalker’s death _you_ would be?”

This was the first time Anakin had ever heard Master Yoda include Obi-Wan in a lecture on attachment, but by the look on Obi-Wan’s face it was not the first time _he_ had heard it.

“I would do what I must, Master Yoda.”

Obi-Wan’s tone seemed a little less than strictly respectful. Anakin bit the inside of his cheek, fighting to overpower the grin that wanted to take control of his mouth.

“Hm!” It was clear what Yoda thought about _that_. “Vulnerable you have made yourselves — to fear, hatred, jealousy. Yes, to the Dark Side. If as entangled as you both the entire Order were, enough to destroy us a single blow would be.”

“And yet somehow we still have a mission to complete,” Obi-Wan drawled. “I hardly think this is the topic we came here to discuss.”

“No,” said Master Windu, clearly wishing he didn’t have to be here at all.

This was quickly turning from one of the worst days of Anakin’s life to one of the best. Obi-Wan was alive, _and_ he had been blatantly sarcastic to Master Yoda’s face. Anakin was never losing an argument about disrespecting the Council ever again.

“Keep a civil tongue, you will, young Obi-Wan. Warned you, I have in the past, and warn you I will again. Dangerous times these are, for all of us. For the soul of the Order. Wish to see the end of my own lineage, I do not.”

Shooting a narrow-eyed look at the old Jedi Master, Anakin wondered if he hadn’t been the only one shaken up a little by Obi-Wan’s death charade. Would it be _too_ unrealistic to suspect that Master Yoda had feelings?

“Of course not, Master. No one wants that,” said Obi-Wan, sighing. He was back to being self-contained in the Force now, the bond only wavering with the sparks of intent and emotion that Anakin was used to sharing between them.

Anakin looked at Master Yoda. “What’s done is done.”

“Exactly what I was going to say,” Master Windu agreed. Anakin couldn’t tell if he was mocking or being genuine. “We gave you this mission for a reason, Obi-Wan. I’m sure Skywalker’s assistance will be invaluable as well.”

“What _is_ the mission?”

It was Obi-Wan who answered. “Do you remember that underworld chatter we picked up a while back? About—”

“That vague threat to the Chancellor? I thought we were never able to run that down.”

“Oh, we found the threat. Moralo Eval.” Master Windu activated a handheld holo, showing the face of a male Phindian. He had a species-typical large skull and narrow chin, but his most memorable feature was his bulging, empty eyes. “He works directly for Count Dooku. Rumor is, he’s plotted to kidnap the Chancellor during the Festival of Lights on Naboo.”

Anakin hooked his thumbs into his belt. “Do we have any idea of Eval’s whereabouts?”

“We know exactly where he is: in prison.”

“RJC?” asked Anakin, referring to the high-security detention center on Coruscant, and squinted a frown when Master Windu nodded. “Uh, and so Obi-Wan faked his death why?” If Moralo Eval was in prison, everything he knew should be fair game to the Jedi.

“We tried to make a deal with Moralo for more details, but he was... uncooperative. He may be more willing to talk to a fellow murderer than he was to us.”

“We tried to make a deal?” Anakin repeated dubiously. “I’m assuming we didn’t just _ask_?”

Master Yoda huffed. “Deranged, Moralo Eval is, but weak-minded he is not. If kill him or destroy his mind we do, go on the plan may. In prison, _Dooku_ is not.”

Anakin hesitated, wanting to ask, _Did you try hard enough?_ but knowing that would sound bad. He doubted Eval’s strength of mind could withstand the combined coercion of the four people in the room and, if they were able to learn his plan, it didn’t really matter if he died after.

“We hired a bounty hunter called Rako Hardeen to kill me,” said Obi-Wan abruptly, possibly to keep Anakin from saying out loud what he was thinking. “I’m going undercover inside the detention center.”

“Undercover as who?” Anakin demanded, before realizing he already knew. “Your plan is to get thrown in prison for murdering yourself?”

“Exactly.”

“Someone who was able to kill a high-profile Jedi _should_ get Moralo’s attention,” said Master Windu. “And you should get your transformation underway, Obi-Wan.”

Quirking an eyebrow at Anakin, Obi-Wan said, “Time for a shave.”

Anakin watched with interest as Obi-Wan repositioned himself on the table and the medbot beside him whirred to life. Obi-Wan was meticulous about his beard whenever he could be, even in the field, so Anakin had seen him shave before, but — was he going to shave it _all_ off?

“So, what is it you need me for?”

The medbot started on Obi-Wan’s hair first, and he held himself still while it efficiently shaved him completely bald. Anakin did _not_ laugh.

“You’re to be support. It will be your task to ‘capture’ Obi-Wan and deliver him to RJC Detention,” said Master Windu. “After that, much of what happens will be played by ear. The Festival of Light is only three days away, and Moralo Eval will almost certainly not oversee his plan from prison. If they go on the move, you will follow.”

“So I’m the babysitter.” Anakin was grinning. “Master, you look like a five-year-old.”

“Why do you think I keep the beard?” Ruefully, Obi-Wan rubbed his newly naked chin. If anything, he looked even younger than he had as a padawan when Anakin first met him.

“I’m serious. I bet they would refuse to serve you at a cantina.”

“I’m _thirty-seven_.”

The legal drinking age on Coruscant was sixteen. Obi-Wan didn’t look _that_ young, but Anakin was enjoying this a lot. “They would say, ‘Sorry young man, nice try. Where are your parents?’ They would say, ‘Shouldn’t you be in school—’”

“Not a game, is this!” snapped Master Yoda, and they fell silent. “The risks, great they are. Focused you will need to be.”

Obi-Wan studiously avoided looking at Anakin, so Anakin looked at Master Windu. He had his arms crossed and just looked impatient. Master Yoda hadn’t ever been in the field with both of them, but Master Windu had; he knew that this was _how_ they focused.

“Uh,” said Anakin, “so I’m supposed to follow Eval and Obi-Wan without being seen? I’ll need to get a tracker on them somehow.”

“Obi-Wan will have a comm we can track, but it won’t matter if you’re seen. Moralo will just think you’re hunting Rako Hardeen to get revenge for him shooting Obi-Wan. It will probably only give Obi-Wan’s cover more legitimacy,” explained Master Windu.

“Oh, right. I guess it would be kind of suspicious if I didn’t do that, anyway.”

Anakin could _feel_ Obi-Wan wanting to say something, but he didn’t.

“Facial transformation program loaded,” intoned the medbot.

“Facial what?”

Obi-Wan ignored both of them. “Is there anything else I should know about Moralo Eval? Anything in particular to avoid, or anything to help me gain his trust?”

Master Windu raised his eyebrows. “Well, he killed his mother when he was just a boy. He said he did it because he was bored.”

“I’ll _try_ not to bore him.”

Anakin tried hard not to smile. It really wasn’t his fault that he lost control when Obi-Wan looked at him with a significantly raised eyebrow. “You’re doomed, old man,” he said, grinning and forgetting that he had just called Obi-Wan a five-year-old. “They should have killed me instead. I’m way more famous than you, anyway.”

“That would have been too unrealistic. No one would believe Hardeen could have killed the Republic’s poster boy.”

“True, I guess,” said Anakin, matching Obi-Wan’s sarcasm with a very fake sigh.

“Facial transformation protocol loaded,” insisted the droid.

“Okay — what is that about?”

“I’m impersonating Rako Hardeen, Anakin. I have to look like him.” Obi-Wan turned and lay down on the table. He folded his hands placidly over his stomach, even when the medbot came at him with a threatening syringe.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Anakin grabbed the droid’s little arm, and it swiveled its head to survey him with bright, round photoreceptors. “Nanite bone reconstruction? That’s restricted technology. Experimental!”

“It’s a complete reconfiguration, not just bone,” said Master Windu. “We’ve used it before.”

“Necessary this is, young Skywalker.”

“Eval may be able to lead us to Grievous. Maybe even Dooku,” agreed Obi-Wan, before pulling out his trump card. “And we must protect the Chancellor.”

“But is it _safe_?”

“We’ve done it before,” Master Windu repeated, which was not a yes.

Obi-Wan reached up, looping his fingers around Anakin’s wrist. “I’ll be fine, Anakin. It’s not a comfortable experience, I’m told, but it’s safe.”

He was probably lying. Anakin wavered anyway. “And you’ll, um, be able to put yourself back — after?”

“Of course.”

Obi-Wan squeezed gently, and Anakin let go of the droid. He regretted it half a second later when the medbot had plunged the syringe into Obi-Wan’s neck and nanites started eating his face. They broadened his nose, disintegrating the bone and remaking it higher up on his face; they destroyed Obi-Wan’s cheekbones and drew narrower, gaunter ones; even his skin was replaced, disappearing under unfamiliar lines and a gray, weather-beaten complexion.  

Anakin saw none of this, knowing only that Obi-Wan was seizing and shouting in pain. It lasted for less than a minute, but was plenty of time for Anakin to turn as white as a dead man. He was panicking, trying to come up with any way to help Obi-Wan with the Force or his hands, when Master Windu shouldered him aside.

“Leave him,” he said, and pinned Obi-Wan to the table with one large hand splayed across his chest.

When it had stopped, as suddenly as it had started, Obi-Wan lay still for a moment with his knees drawn up and his hands over his face. Then he sat up, and Anakin’s eyes widened.

“That was... unpleasant.”

It was Obi-Wan’s voice. When Anakin yanked sharply on the bond, it was Obi-Wan’s presence in the Force that came back. But it was a stranger’s face. The man who sat on the table now was older, with a nose that had been many times broken and a marauder’s tattoo etched over one side of his face.

Anakin didn’t like it.

“I’m guessing from your expression that it worked?”

Obi-Wan smiled with his Rako Hardeen face, and it looked unnatural. Master Windu nodded, pursing his mouth like he was impressed. “Yeah. Looks almost perfect. All you need is his voice, and you could probably fool Hardeen’s own mother.”

“For that we need the man himself, yes?”

“You and I will go down and collect him. Skywalker, you stay here until we comm you.”

“Then I come after you and ‘arrest’ Obi-Wan? Who will be in disguise as Hardeen?” asked Anakin, feeling like he had lost track of something somewhere.

“Right.”

“Need me, you will not. Once delivered to prison Obi-Wan is, report to me you should in the High Council data room,” said Master Yoda. Jabbing his stick in Obi-Wan’s direction, he added, “Watch your progress closely we will, Obi-Wan. May the Force be with you.”

“Thank you, Master.”

When he was gone, Obi-Wan slid down off the table. He stood casually and looked fine, as much as Anakin could tell from the unfamiliar face he wore, but he did not miss the fact that Obi-Wan kept one hand securely resting on the table. Looking at Hardeen’s features and feeling Obi-Wan in the Force made Anakin feel like his vision was blurred, like he needed to rub his eyes or blink rapidly to clear it. Carefully, Anakin probed the bond.

“I’m fine,” said Obi-Wan, pushing back simultaneously in the Force. The fact that he had slipped enough to say that out loud seemed to hint that he was _not_ fine, but Obi-Wan quickly moved on. “Is there anything else we need to go over, or are we ready to acquire Hardeen?”

Master Windu shrugged. “Hardeen’s not going anywhere. Take a minute to adjust to having your face replaced before we go dumpster diving in the lower levels, Obi-Wan.”

Before Obi-Wan could dispute this, Anakin said, “Ahsoka. I need to be able to tell her.”

“No,” said Master Windu, and Obi-Wan was shaking his head.

“Listen. You didn’t tell me because you thought I would give it away? I’m pretty sure I could have put on a convincing show for most people, but okay, you’re right. I couldn’t fool Ahsoka. She knows me. She’s in my head. She’ll figure it out in under a day, I guarantee it.”

“Avoid her.”

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan. He would know how impossible that was, even if Master Windu didn’t. Few things were more persistent than a padawan worried about their master and, as the last few hours had shown, Ahsoka was very worried indeed.

“You’ll bring her with you to capture me?”

“I won’t have a choice,” said Anakin.

The only way he would get away with leaving her behind would be to somehow sneak out of the Temple without her noticing. Even if he did that, she would be instantly on him the moment he got back to explain where he had been and why. In either of these situations, he doubted his ability to act in a way that wouldn’t make her suspicious.

Obi-Wan winced at Master Windu. “He’s right.”

“Too many people know about this mission already.”

“Ahsoka can be trusted.”

“Regardless, once you start widening the circle of something like this, it _will_ leak out. Ahsoka is social and well-liked; certainly she has other friends, people who would notice something odd in her behavior, just like she will notice yours. It is a very short jump from here to the point where the whole Temple knows.”  

This was where the unity of the Force and the perceptiveness of Jedi started to work against them. It was hard to keep such a big secret in a community full of people who read body language and stray emotions as easily as flashing neon signs.

“Keep it from her until we leave the planet,” suggested Obi-Wan. He crossed his arms, lifting a hand to cup his chin and then making a face at the strange realization that it was actually someone else’s chin. “Can you do that? Even if she thinks you’re acting strange, a certain amount of strangeness must be expected in this situation.”

“Maybe,” Anakin said. If he avoided Ahsoka as much as possible and acted generally standoffish and abrupt, he could probably keep her at least uncertain for a short while.

“Once the both of you are off-planet following me and Moralo Eval, the risks of letting Ahsoka in on the mission should be minimal.”

Master Windu nodded, thoughtful. “That’s true enough. You can tell her once you’ve left Coruscant. But _no_ one else.”

That was manageable, but Anakin had to ask. “Satine? Senator Amidala?”

“ _No_ ,” said Obi-Wan. “You’re only telling Ahsoka because you would fail at keeping it from her anyway. There is no sense in damaging her trust in you _and_ exposing the mission.”

That was the answer he’d expected. Anakin wasn’t sure they knew how hard it was going to be for him to keep Obi-Wan’s survival from Padme, but that was probably a good thing. By now, Obi-Wan was looking much more balanced. They would probably be leaving any minute, but before they did, Anakin had one more thing to ask.

Hesitating, he said slowly, “You know, this is going to damage Ahsoka’s trust in _you_ , Obi-Wan.”

“I know.”

There was no justification. No explanation that she wasn’t Obi-Wan’s padawan, that she was a Jedi and would get over it soon, and no joke about her not having _that_ much trust to lose anyway. Anakin tried to keep his mouth shut, but didn’t quite exercise that much control over steadily leaking disapproval into the Force.

Obi-Wan sighed. “It doesn’t make me _happy_ , Anakin. But it is more important for the Chancellor to be safe than it is for my friends to be pleased with me.”

That was the essence of being a Jedi.

“Well,” said Anakin with only a little bitterness, “I’m glad you told _me_ , anyway.”

“Me too.” Obi-Wan smiled at him.

Anakin winced and looked away. “That face makes me sick.”

“Surely Hardeen isn’t _quite_ that ugly.”

“Pretty ugly,” Master Windu said, deadpan.

“No, I mean, it’s literally making me _sick_. Like, nauseous. Because I can feel you like normal, but then I see something else and the dissonance is—” Anakin shook his head, face still screwed up. “Feels like motion-sickness.”

They’d been in disguise before, and it had never made him dizzy or caused his insides to twist up. Maybe because it was real this time? The cells of Obi-Wan’s body _were_ truly changed, even though his Force signature was the same.

Master Windu was looking at him sharply, his interest obvious. Obi-Wan said, “Then I suppose it’s a good thing we’re leaving.”

“Yeah, I’ll just. Wait here, I guess.” Anakin had nowhere else to be, and it was unlikely Ahsoka or anyone else would think to look for him in the bowels of the Halls of Healing.

Eyeing Obi-Wan, Master Windu must have judged him steady enough to travel. He gave Anakin a short nod and said, “I’ll comm you when it’s time for you to show up.”

“Try not to have _too_ much fun arresting me.”

Anakin made the effort to grin a little. “Be careful, Obi-Wan.”

They moved toward the door, and Anakin had to suppress the wild instinct to not let Obi-Wan leave. To trap him forever and _keep_ him. He was alive now, but what about tomorrow? Stomping hard on that panicked impulse, Anakin stood and did not move. He couldn’t stop himself, though, from reaching out in the Force.

Obi-Wan responded with a wry, chiding nudge in the bond. “May the Force be with you,” he said, which meant, _Please focus, my dear_.

Holding himself rigidly still, Anakin let them walk away.

**Author's Note:**

> I still can't even believe that anyone, especially Obi-Wan, would think that he could go secretly undercover as his own murderer, and NOT end up getting killed by Anakin in righteous vengeance. So many Jedi Masters and yet nobody could foresee something that obvious?
> 
> Credits:  
> \- Some of the dialogue is adapted directly from 4.15 "Deception."
> 
> \- Yoda's attachment lecture vaguely echoes the one he gives Obi-Wan in _Wild Space_ by Karen Miller.


End file.
